From Beyond the Veil
by Eye of Passion
Summary: Too dark. Too dark for too long. Sirius Black returns from beyond the veil, and goes to his best friend first—Remus Lupin. But neither expect the feelings that come with his sudden return... SBRL slash, some HPDM
1. Prologue: Deep in the Black

A/N: This is my first Harry Potter fic at all, and also my first slash fic, so try not to kill me. Enjoy!

Prologue: Deep in the Black

Too dark. Too dark for too long. Months of it, maybe even years, he wasn't sure anymore. All he remembered was the last battle, fighting her, wanting to kill her, rip her to shreds. Fighting. Screaming. Not his own screaming but people he knew.

And then a whisper of fabric, brushing past him as he fell too far, infinitely far.

After that he knew nothing. Until now. He hadn't even realized he was in the dark, but now he was all too aware of it. The oppressive blackness, on his eyes as he opened them or maybe he hadn't opened them at all? He couldn't remember anything, not with the black pressing in on his heart and his body and his soul.

But there was a reason. Something, somewhere, calling him back. He needed to go back, to wherever he had been. There was something he had left behind, something he needed.

He had to get out.

The sound of ripping fabric reached his ears, a harsh tearing through his consciousness, and he felt cold stone under his cheek. Rough and painful against his skin. His lids were closed tight—he wasn't sure if he even remembered how to open them.

His fingers curled under, into the stone floor, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, his aching and unused limbs trembling with the effort, he raised himself up so he was sitting. He did not dare open his eyes. But he wanted to. God, how we wanted to. To know that he was here, wherever here was, to know that he could feel and that there was something other than that darkness that had snatched and trapped him so cruelly.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he opened his eyes, and though the room was dark, even the residual light from a door at one end burned him like sunlight. He stood, his joints cracking and his muscles crying out in protest.

He went to the door, passing it, the veil, as he went out, and shivering as a sharp chill went up his spine. The door creaked open under his hands, though his limbs shook and buckled. He walked out, out of the room that had taken his life, out of the place that had nearly taken his soul as well. He walked up the stairs, past the people bustling around who hardly seemed to notice him as he passed with his head down and his eyes on the ground. There was another door ahead, and this one opened more easily, swiftly even, and for a moment he simply stood, staring out through the door at the world.

And Sirius Black walked out into the sunlight.

A/N: Review, if you please. Obviously, Remus will be coming along shortly, but I'm the kind of girl who likes a good progression of things, so the romance might not heat up for a little while. This is the part where you push the review button.


	2. When Light Slips In

Chapter 1: When Light Slips In

A/N: Just to remind all of you. This is definitely going to be slash, so you've been warned. And here we have my favorite!

Remus Lupin let out a shuddering breath, trying to control the convulsions that wracked his body. His breath was coming hard and fast, tearing through his lungs and his throat, and he shivered despite the thin sheen of sweat that covered his skin. He never slept with clothing anymore, not after the nightmares started more than a year ago. And they were only worse now.

He dreamt of so many things. Of Lily and James, of Peter's betrayal, of Dumbledore's death, of Harry's travesty of a life. But mostly he dreamed of Sirius.

For him, that death was still too raw to forget, or to accept. More than a year should be long enough, but not for him. Not when his best friend had been there one moment, and the next, slipped behind a veil of death without a sound. It wasn't fair, that he had been taken. Not when Remus had finally gotten him back.

He sighed and rose from the bed silently, holding his breath at a creak from the ancient floor. Number 12 Grimmauld Place was not the most sturdy building ever. God, it hurt even just to be here. In his house, the house he hated.

Remus opened his door softly and crept down the hall, first pulling on a pair of loose pants. He was still cold, but his skin burned with an unnatural heat.

He had dreamt again of Sirius, of course. Of him dying. But also of his death. Of a blackness so harsh it was painful, suffocating, cutting off his air and his sight and his nerves. He had dreamt of Sirius, as always, and as always, it was not a happy dream. Remus was not a man to deceive himself; his dreams did not try to convince him that Sirius was coming back, he knew that his friend could never come back.

A soft footfall sounded behind him and he turned, his heart momentarily jumping into his throat. Tonks stood in the hallway, her now-pink hair slightly mussed and her eyes clouded with sleep.

"Remus?" she said softly.

"Yes, it's me." He let out a quiet sigh, so that she did not hear. He wanted to be alone, to revel in the misery of his dreams and of his best friend's death and of the terrible life he led and had led so far. So little of his life had been truly happy.

Tonks ran a hand through her hair. "I heard somebody up and I was just checking." She paused. "Are you okay?"

Remus finally turned his eyes to hers. No, he wanted to say. No, I'm not fucking okay. I hate my life, I hate this place, I hate the creature I turn into every month. I hate that all of my best friends are dead. I hate that I can't be dead with them.

Instead he smiled slightly, barely tilting the corner of his mouth. "I'm fine, Nymphadora."

The smile on her face was genuine as she slowly stepped toward him. "I thought I told you to never call me by my first name." She was closer now, much closer than she should be, and a slight frown creased his face.

"I'm—sorry," he replied stupidly, swallowing. What was she doing?

One of her hands rested on his chest, the other rose and entangled itself in his hair, playing with the dirty blonde strands. "Remus," she whispered, "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of not being with you just because you hate being a werewolf." Her lips came closer, she stood on her tiptoes and her lips brushed the shell of his ear as she talked. "I want you, and I know you want me. So, why don't we do ourselves a favor and give in?"

Remus was having a difficult time understanding what she was saying, his head was so filled with noise. What was she doing? Why was she playing with his hair? Why did his stomach flutter as she touched him? Why did his chest contract painfully and his head tell him no at the sensation of her lips on his ear? Did he want her? Was that what the fluttering was?

Suddenly her lips were on his, soft and wet and yielding. They were gentle but insisting, her tongue urged his mouth open and his lips parted willingly. The kiss was slow, indulgent, savoring. Her scent filled his nose, the feminine smell of flowers in the rain. His arms came around her, seemingly of their own accord, and she pressed her body flush against his. It was good, her warmth against him, her curves soft and pliant against the hard planes of his own body.

But if he wanted her, why was he so confused when he pulled back and opened his eyes? For instead of a deep, dark, grey-blue, so dark they almost looked black, they were hers. And her smell was wrong. All wrong. Not sandalwood and soap, it was flowers and fruit. The wolf in him growled slightly. This wasn't what he wanted.

But she smiled nonetheless. "Good night, Remus." She left, leaving him alone with a new barrage of thoughts and feelings. Her touch had left him feeling empty, and he sank down into one of the couches in the parlor, his head in his hands. Empty. Without those eyes, without that scent, without... him. Without him, he was empty.

---------------

Outside of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, a taxi pulled up to the curb and a dark-haired man climbed out, handing the driver a few crumpled pound notes. The man looked up at the buildings in front of him, knowing that his destination would appear in a moment. It couldn't hide itself from its owner, after all.

---------------

If Remus had been able to cry, he would have. But crying was no longer something he could do. The tears had long since been stopped up, or dried up; either way, he could no longer cry, and so there was no relief from the pain in his chest and the aching in his throat. Though right now the aching seemed to fill his entire body. He ached for... something. He didn't know what. Something that Tonks' touch had reminded him he was missing.

His head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening. Careful not to make any noise he rose to his feet, and made his was silently to the door of the parlor. Remus ducked his head around the door frame, peering into the foyer. A dark figure stood in the doorway, the silhouette stark against the illumination of the street lamps.

Remus reached into his pocket, searching for his wand, and cursing mentally when his fingertips met only fabric. Opting for a different tact, he waited until the man—he assumed it was a man—was level with the door frame. In a flash, he had his arm wrapped around the man's shoulder and his other hand covering his mouth.

"I suggest you hold very still," he said in a low voice, one that was almost a growl.

His captive froze, every muscle in his body going still, and Remus felt an almost imperceptible nod against his neck. The man was tall, though not as tall as Remus, and his head fit neatly into the curve of his captor's neck. His shoulders were broad, and he was obviously of a rather powerful build, as Remus felt the cords of his muscle tightening against him.

With practiced care, Remus hauled the man into the parlor and set him in one of the chairs near the fire that was now little more than embers. Remus spoke a word to activate the lights in the room, and moved around the man to build up the fire. His captive shivered incessantly, drawing his knees up to his chest and trembling. Short black hair hung over the upper half of his face as he buried his face in his knees, and Remus felt a momentary pang of pity for the man.

With the fire built, Remus slowly stood up. He suddenly felt very tired, and wished for nothing more than for this man to tell him who the hell he was and get it all the hell over with. He froze as a cool voice he knew almost better than his own spoke behind him.

"Remus."

His name. God, just his name. How could the simply uttering of his name do that to him? Cause his heart to pound and his breath to catch in his chest.

"Remus," the voice spoke again. "Please, look at me."

Remus turned around, not daring to believe his ears. But there he was. Just as he had been more than a year ago, when he had died. When he had left Remus alone.

The dark eyes were as haunting and haunted as ever, fringed by the same thick, dark lashes. The cheekbones perhaps a little more prominent, the slight growth of dark stubble along his jaw slightly thicker. The hair was still rather short, though his bangs brushed just above his eyebrows. Nose straight, almost regal, lips carved though now slightly chapped.

"Remus?" The voice was the same too. That low, cool, baritone, that thrummed through Remus's every nerve when he spoke.

He shook his head. "You're not real."

Sirius chuckled. "Nice of you to have so much faith in me."

"You're dead. How can I have faith in you if you're dead?"

"I'm not dead anymore." Sirius rose from the chair, walking toward the other man with purpose. "Could a dead man walk? Could a dead man talk to you?" He reached out his hand between them. "Could a dead man touch you?"

Remus fixed his gaze on the hand between them. Slowly he stretched out his own hand, hesitating as his fingers neared the flesh of his friend. This was it. This was when he found out that he had truly gone insane, that he was hallucinating his friend, that he had finally lost it. That Sirius was still dead.

But his fingers brushed lightly over the slightly rough skin of Sirius's hand, and then his fingers clasped his friend's, and the simple contact of skin seemed to still his shaking.

"I—" Remus started, his eyes fixed on the dark blue of his comrade's, "I couldn't save you." he whispered.

Sirius shook his head, his smile still in place, and pulled lightly on their entwined hands. Remus stumbled forward into his embrace, and stilled as solid arms came to wrap around his waist. Hesitantly, he let his own hands fall on Sirius's back.

"Nobody could save me." Warm breath tickled the taller man's neck as Sirius spoke, and the sensation was doing strange things to his stomach. This was nothing like the fluttering that Tonks had inspired, this was a churning, a hurricane in his lower abdomen that sent heat flooding his cheeks and a strange trembling up his form.

"But I should have," Remus protested when he remembered how to breathe again. "I couldn't save Lily or James, I couldn't save Peter from becoming—Voldemort's lap dog. I couldn't save Harry from any of his horrible life. I couldn't save Dumbledore. I couldn't save you. Not the first time when you went to Azkaban and I hated you for a crime you didn't commit, and not when you died. Fuck, I can't even save myself."

---------------

Sirius held onto the trembling form of his friend as Remus fought hard to keep the tears at bay. The dead man had pictured hundreds of scenarios on his ride in the taxi, coming to Remus alive after so much time had passed, of the joy that would light up his old friend's face when he walked through the door.

He hadn't thought about this wreck of a man his friend had become. Remus was still beautiful, there was no question in his mind, though perhaps his conscious thoughts wouldn't describe him as such. Still tall, body made up of sharp, graceful lines, lean and strong. His hair longer, brushing slightly past his jaw. Eyes still warm hazel, brown mostly, but sometimes green and yellow and always infinitely deep. But now there were dark circles under his eyes, like purple had been etched into his skin, and his lips were set into a grim line. He looked older than he was, the laugh lines overwhelmed by other lines, of grief and hopelessness.

Sirius laughed softly into his friend's neck. "This is one fucked up reunion," he observed wryly. Remus let out a broken laugh, one that sounded as though he had not laughed in a very long time. Sirius frowned slightly. "What did you say about Dumbledore?" he asked suddenly. "You couldn't save him?"

Remus drew back slowly, a look of deep sadness on his face. "Dumbledore is dead. He and Harry were searching for a Horcrux, and there was poison protecting it. He was weakened and when he came back... they were surrounded by Death Eaters, young Malfoy even threatened him, but Snape killed him."

Sirius felt a fury bubbling up in his chest like he hadn't felt in months. "Snivellus," he snarled. Remus nodded slowly. Sirius still had his hands placed gently on the other man's waist; he drew a great deal of comfort from the firm wall of muscle that graced the lean figure. "What else?"

"A lot. Nothing." Remus cracked a wry smile. "Sirius Black came back from the dead." He shook his head. "Honestly, Harry and Dumbledore found the location of one of the Horcruxes, but it had already been destroyed by—by your brother. Harry had a girlfriend for a little while, pretty Ginny Weasley."

Sirius smiled. "Good for him." His dark eyes flicked up curiously. "What about you, old friend? Any pretty girls in your life?" A frown crossed his friend's face, and he wondered what had inspired that reaction.

"In a sense. It's complicated."

Sirius chuckled softly. "It's almost never complicated."

Remus had a strange expression on his face as he looked at Sirius. He turned his eyes, a faint tinge of color washing his cheeks. "Trust me. It is complicated."

A/N: Ahaha, I enjoy setting my heroes up for romance and then letting them stew in their own confusion and misery. Review for me. I dare you.


	3. Pull the Light Closer

**Chapter 2: Pull the Light Closer**

**A/N: Thank you to my one lovely reviewer! I shall treasure that spark of hope forever ;)**

Remus sat quietly in the dark, his form still, his breathing slow and soft. It was late, terribly late, or early, he wasn't sure anymore, but he had no desire to sleep. Instead he watched as thin bars of moonlight crawled across his sleeping friend's back, illuminating the slightly ripped t-shirt Remus had given him to sleep in. If he were to be honest with himself, he wasn't staying awake so he could see his friend again. He was staying awake to make sure he didn't leave. That he wasn't a dream.

He had been alone for so long. Out of the four of them, he and Sirius had survived, and he'd thought that if they couldn't be happy, they could at least be safe. And then Sirius had left him too. First Prongs to the Dark Lord, then Wormtail the traitor, and then his Padfoot, to a black veil.

Sirius sucked in a deep breath, and his brow furrowed as he turned his face into the slices of moonlight. Remus watched the emotions play over his sleeping face, watched him bite his lip as if in pain, his face contort as his limbs shook. Swiftly and quietly he went to his friend and dropped down beside him. He rested his hand on the other man's forehead, gently smoothing the dark hair away from his face.

Sirius opened his eyes slowly, and there was a darkness, a fear in them that Remus hadn't seen before.

"You're here, Sirius. You're here, with me, Moony." He wouldn't ask if he was okay. He knew the answer.

Sirius nodded. "I thought for a moment that I was... that none of the past few hours were real. I mean, I knew that they were, because sleeping is nothing like... but I thought it anyway."

Remus smiled softly; he was still stroking the other man's forehead. "What was it like?" He had ever been curious, scientific even in his pursuit of knowledge, and the curiosity now was overwhelming. But he wanted to know not only for the sake of the knowledge, but because he knew that Sirius might never be whole without somebody knowing and understanding what he had gone through.

Sirius sat up and gestured to Remus to sit beside him. They sat close on the couch, too close for real comfort, and not close enough at the same time.

"It was like when you're in a cave, and it's so dark that you can't see anything, and the blackness actually pushes down on you like a weight, and there's a pressure all over you but mostly in your chest, and you're only sort of aware of it. Because mostly all you can feel is the things around you." Sirius closed his eyes. "They might be people. It's like being a crowd, only you can't see anybody else or even yourself, only feel them surrounding you, jostling you, crawling around you and in you at the same time. And if they could just stop making that noise and bumping into you for just a minute, you could remember how to get out. But they don't stop. They never stop."

"But they did stop. You're here. You're... alive."

Sirius turned his head and suddenly his face was much too close—Remus started but did not move back. "I don't think I was ever really dead."

Remus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't think I was dead. I was, but not where I should have been. It's like it wasn't Heaven, and it wasn't Hell, not that I really believe in that crap, but it wasn't just death either. And I wasn't stuck here. It was worse than that, like being caught between all three places, stuck in the tiny space in between all of them. Not dead. Not alive. Just gone."

---------------

Sirius turned his face away as he felt a familiar tightening in his throat. It had been a long time since he'd cried, years. Seventeen years if he were to be honest. Not since the night Lily and James had died.

He heard Remus's voice, so close to his ear he could feel the warm breath tickle his neck. A strange feeling invaded his stomach at the sensation, one he did not quite remember ever having before this.

"You can, you know," the soft, warm voice told him in a whisper. "Cry in front of me. I know when we were in school you never wanted to cry in front of me. But you can, now. It might help. Remind you that you're alive."

Sirius nodded slowly. The warmth in the voice was startling, the heat of the breath on his ear searing, the way his neck arched ever so slightly toward the heat sensual and... confusing. Instead he concentrated on the tears that fought their way from his eyes, making crystalline paths down his cheeks, through the dark stubble that had begun to grow.

He felt Remus gently wrap an arm around him, and Sirius turned toward the warmth and the comfort, clinging to it. His grip was tight around his friend's neck, his body pressed flush against the other man's, and his body trembled as he cried silently for everything he had never cried for before.

After several minutes he willed his breathing to calm, taking in slow, deep breaths to halt the flood of emotions. He didn't let go of Remus—it felt far too good to be pressed against his tall, solid form. There was so much tenderness in that embrace, so much of that love their friendship was built on, and a different kind of heat that he was unsure if he was imagining.

"I'm alive." Sirius said softly, testing out the sentence, trying to make sure it was real. "I'm alive, I'm standing in my own living room more than a year after my death."

"With your best friend in the whole world." Remus pointed out, and Sirius could feel him grin.

"Only because the others have rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible," he teased gently.

Remus stiffened slightly against him, just the barest tensing of muscles, but Sirius pulled back to look at him. "Don't tell me you took that seriously." He gave a crooked smile, his signature expression that never failed to placate his friend. "I know you're repressed, Moony, but please tell me you didn't lose your ability to take a joke."

Remus looked down at him with an inscrutable expression, but after a moment his features softened and a spark of humor lit his amber eyes. "I am not repressed."

Sirius laughed and flopped back onto the couch, having extracted himself from his friend's arms. "Of course you're not."

Remus sat down, a frown on his face. "What makes you think I'm repressed?"

Sirius replied without hesitation. "Knowing you for the better part of our lives."

"You don't know I'm repressed. Maybe compared to you I'm repressed, but that's because you've always been very... adventurous. And you wouldn't know if I've been repressed recently, because you were—" Remus stopped, a look of dawning horror on his face.

A soft chuckle came from Sirius. "You can say it, you know. I've pretty much come to terms with the fact that I was dead. I was quite aware of it, in fact." He smiled, looking over at his friend, who was determinedly looking anywhere else. "And you are definitely repressed."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"I am not." Remus protested again.

"Are too."

"I am—Look, only a few hours in my company and you've already caused me to regress to the behavior of a five-year-old." He paused. "I'm not repressed."

Sirius pinned him with dark eyes, the eyes somewhere between blue and black. "What have you done in the past year?"

His friend sat down slowly, shifting uncomfortably on the old couch. "Mostly I've been helping the Order, talking to other werewolves, trying to get them on our side instead of... instead of Voldemort's. Other than that, I've been doing research, here, mostly, and then—"

"I meant what have you done as in recreationally. For fun."

Remus blinked once, twice, seemingly confused by the question. "I haven't really had the time for fun."

"You haven't just grabbed a broom and flown somewhere?"

"I never liked flying as much as you and James did," his friend said quietly, looking down at his hands.

"Have you gone out to a bar and gotten completely pissed?"

"I have research to do."

Sirius shifted on the couch so he was facing his friend and smiled mischieviously. "When was the last time you got some?"

Remus spluttered. "Sorry?"

"The last time you got some. Got laid, if you want the Yank term. Gotten off to something other than your right hand."

"I'm left-handed," Remus corrected absently.

"Right. Well, then something other than your left hand." There was silence, and a sly smile crossed Sirius's face. "So how long has it been really?"

Remus shrugged.

Sirius continued. "And how long has it been since you've had the... opportunity?"

"Er... I'm not sure." His friend's voice had dropped to a whisper.

"How can you not be sure? I mean, it's not that hard, is it, to know whether or not you can sleep with somebody?" Sirius knew that his voice was rising in volume, illogically, irrationally, but for some reason he couldn't stand the idea of Remus having found someone while he was gone. Of him choosing somebody without his best friend around. He wanted to be there when his friend had something eventful happen, that was all. Or that was what he told himself.

"It's just—" Remus began, but a light flared from the stairway and both men froze.

A woman stood illuminated in the stairwell, curly mousy brown hair framing her heart-shaped face. Sirius recognized her face from somewhere, from here, the last times he had been here, before it had all ended. Her name was Trunks, Tronks, something ridiculous like that. Why was he having so much trouble remembering her name? They had been friends, they were some sort of cousins, even, he knew, and why did he suddenly feel so hostile toward her?

"Remus?" she said softly, coming farther down the stairs. She was pretty, Sirius wasn't going to deny it, if a bit on the slim side. Nothing incredibly curvy or irresistible about her. Pert nose, wide eyes, small and pouting lips. But she was wrong. All wrong for Remus. "Remus?" she said again. "What's going on? I thought I heard voices. You really should get some sleep—" Tonks stopped abruptly, her eyes fixed on Sirius.

Her eyes really were pretty, if you focused on them, but not enthralling. And not for Remus. He needed something deeper, something darker, something to awaken the animal side of him that he always kept shut up, suppressed within a perfect shell of indifference and scholarly curiosity. Now, Tonks was staring at him, confusion and horror and shock frozen on her face.

"Oh Merlin."

**A/N: And that is what I like to call a cliffhanger. Exciting, isn't it? Review review review. Please. My one review as exciting as it is, is only one review.**


	4. Darkness Waits Just Outside

**Chapter 3: In the Light But Darkness Waits Just Outside**

**A/N: More of my lovely boys. This chapter is more angsty, and hopefully Harry will come into play. So here we are.**

"Oh Merlin."

Remus found that he couldn't move, not when Tonks uttered those two horrified words, not when she came rushing down the stairs to stand in front of the couch and stare at Sirius like she had never seen him before.

"Remus, what the fuck is going on?" Her eyes were still fixed on Sirius, roving over his face. Her hand was tucked into her pocket, and Remus could see her fingers clenched around her wand.

Sirius chuckled. "It's nice to see you, too, Nymphadora." His position on the couch was still relaxed, but his form had tensed slightly, ready to run.

"How did this—how are you—what are you?" she asked finally, and she slowly withdrew her wand from her pocket, holding it in front of her.

Swiftly, Remus stood, stepping in front of his newly-living friend protectively. "Put the wand away, Tonks," he said softly. A slight pressure on his arm and he glanced over his shoulder. Sirius was wearing a smile that he had seen many times before; it was forced, simple, too sweet, a particular expression that he had for revenge.

"No, Remus, let her keep it. She has a right to be suspicious." Remus could feel his friend step closer to him, so they were side by side.

"What are you?" Tonks repeated, her wand still raised.

Sirius laughed softly, though it was colder than his previous amusement. "As far as I know, human. A wizard, an animagus, a devilishly handsome man, an exceptional lover. Alive."

"How do I know you're real?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, my name is Sirius Black, and I was dead, and we're cousins of some sort. As to my being real..." Remus felt an arm slip around his waist and glanced in surprise at his friend. "I seem tangible enough."

---------------

Sirius wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, except that he delighted in the little spark of anger that lighted the woman's eyes at the sight of his arm wrapped possessively around Remus's waist. He was holding his friend closer than was necessary to prove his point—that he was real—but at the same time, a part of him didn't think that his being tangible was the point. That the point was something deeper than that. That same part of him knew that his fingers enjoyed the feel of the muscle under the shirt, and his forearm was saturated with heat that tingled in his skin and deeper, in his blood.

"Yes, you do," Tonks replied stiffly, her eyes flicking to the fingers that dug slightly into the werewolf's waist. Her eyes came back to Sirius's face, back to his own dark eyes. There was a challenge in hers, one that he hoped Remus couldn't see, because even he wasn't sure what it meant.

"I can't make you trust me." Sirius found himself speaking again, though he didn't remove his hand, only pulled his friend a little closer. He felt the muscles tense against his palm, and he couldn't tell if he was imagining it, but he thought that Remus's breath hitched slightly at the feeling.

Suddenly Remus spoke. "It doesn't matter if you trust him, Tonks." His voice was quiet, at it always was, calm and even. "Because I do. He's my best friend, and he's alive. I don't care how, I only care that he is. Now, if you would excuse us, I'm going to find him a place to sleep other than this dreadful couch." He withdrew from the grip around his waist, and Sirius found himself disappointed that the warmth had left him. He watched Remus walk to Tonks and speak quietly to her, guiding her up the stairs with a gentle hand on her back.

Sirius sat down on the couch, his hands in his lap. He was sitting up straight, straighter than he ever had in his life. There was too much in his chest right now, too much in his head. A feeling of hostility toward this woman who he didn't remember too clearly and who hadn't really done anything whatsoever to him, this yearning to be as close as he possibly could to his werewolf friend, and more than that, a disturbing sensation of jealousy in his abdomen at the sight of Remus's hand on her back.

Remus turned around at the bottom of the stairs, staring wearily at his friend. Sirius stared back at him, his dark eyes searching the werewolf's face, for what he wasn't quite sure.

Remus cleared his throat uncertainly and adjusted the collar of his shirt, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years. "Why don't you come upstairs. You can sleep in my bed, as none of the rooms are made up for any guests. I'll sleep down here, on the couch. After all, I'm not the one who hasn't had a proper sleep in more than a year."

Sirius smiled half-heartedly and stood slowly. He followed Remus up the stairs, just behind his friend, taking in his house like he was seeing it for the first time. He had never held any particular fondness for the place, but it was his, one of the few things he owned since being sent to Azkaban. The stairs were crooked, and creaked as they made their way up to the second story, the walls were smeared with dark stains that he didn't remember being there, and the ceilings seemed lower than they had been.

He didn't know what he had come back to. What life he had returned to. But he knew who he had returned to. He found himself watching Remus as they walked, observing the slightly predatory walk his friend had, despite the fact that he was such a reserved person. He looked at the sandy hair that caressed the nape of the man's neck, and the way his shoulders, though they were not nearly as broad as his own, strained slightly against the fabric of his shirt.

What was happening to him?

---------------

Inside his room, Remus shut the door softly and turned to the man standing awkwardly by his bed. Valiantly, he suppressed the heat that flooded his cheeks at the sight of Sirius standing next to his bed, looking so lost and forlorn that all he wanted to do was to just—

"So, obviously there are covers, the bathroom's through there," he said with only the barest of tremors in his voice, "and I'll be downstairs if you need me." Remus turned to leave, gripping the doorknob and fumbling in his haste to leave the source of his discomfort.

"Wait." He stopped, and turned slowly around at the sound of the voice. Sirius had sat down on the bed, and his knees were drawn up to his chest. His expression was calm and closed, though there had been a certain panic in his voice, and he wasn't looking at Remus. "Do you think—would you... could you stay with me?"

Remus swallowed as his heart obnoxiously leapt into his throat, but it did little good to get rid of the sudden problem he was having with breathing. "What?" he said stupidly.

He could see the slight flush along Sirius's cheekbones, though his friend still did not look at him. "I don't want to be alone. If I'm alone, then it could... I could... it could not be real, and I could go to sleep and maybe be back in that noise and that crowd. But if you're there, then there will be something real with me."

Remus nodded. "Yes. Of course. I understand. I need to send off a letter briefly, but then I'll be right back."

"It is to Harry?"

"Yes. I think he'll want to know as soon as possible. I'm not exactly sure how he's going to handle it or what he's going to... but I need to send it to him."

"Yeah." Remus watched as Sirius sat back on the bed, against the headboard, and he tried to ignore the tightening in his chest as his friend ran a hand through his hair. Remus's fingers itched at the sight, and he turned abruptly and left the room, trying desperately to escape sensations he couldn't and wasn't sure he wanted to understand.

At his desk downstairs, with a quill in hand and parchment on the wooden surface, he frowned. How to begin anything like this? How did he tell this young man that his godfather, to whom he had become so attached, was back from the dead?

_Dear Harry._

He scratched it out. Too formal. This wasn't the time for formal. This was the time for understanding, blunt, and familiar.

_Harry,_

_There is some news that I think you'd like to hear. Sirius is alive, Harry, he's alive and he's here and I'm not sure how it happened, but it did. And you should come and see him because he's your godfather and you're his godson and—_

Remus stopped abruptly and his frown deepened. With a sigh he crumpled the parchment into a little ball and threw it at the waste basket. Another piece of parchment, and he took a deep breath.

_Harry,_

He wrote out a letter in his small, neat handwriting, his letters looping across the page as he wrote what needed to be said. Carefully he slid it into a thick envelope, wrote only Harry's first name on the front. A small barn owl with a sweet disposition and the advantage that it magically camoflauged with nearly every background it was exposed to gripped the letter tightly in its beak and took off into the night, one of the most important messages ever written in its care.

Remus wondered what would happen when Harry received it.

Slowly, he made his way back upstairs, and he wondered absently why his heart was pounding so hard. He was in remarkably good health, very fit, what with all the running around he had been doing for the order, and despite the fact that he did more research than almost anybody else in the world, he shouldn't be having this much trouble with a short flight of stairs. But he was. And his palms were clammy and his face was hot, and there was that damned churning again, along with the heat pooling low in his belly.

He opened the door softly to see Sirius sitting in the same position he had been before, with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. Sirius smiled slightly upon seeing him enter the room, though there was a question in his eyes.

"It's sent," Remus said softly. "I think we can expect him in a day, two at most."

Sirius merely nodded.

Hesitantly, Remus made his way over to the bedside. He was already in pajamas, long comfortable pants and a soft shirt that was far too worn to function as regular clothing, and though it was perfectly reasonable clothing, he suddenly felt as if he were wearing very little. Vulnerable.

Sirius slid under the covers first, his eyes never leaving the werewolf's. Did he have any idea what that dark blue gaze could do? The intensity, the sheer heat of it? Did he have any idea what it was doing to Remus right now?

The werewolf carefully tucked these thoughts away, or put them away as best he could, which wasn't very well, and climbed in on his own side of the bed. His eyes never left Sirius's.

When they were settled, Remus sent a brief spell at the lights and they dimmed to blackness. The room was silent, still except for the sounds of their breathing, which was not deep and even in the sounds of sleep but shallow and tremulous. Expectant. Frightened.

And perhaps, thought Remus, something else, too.

For there was no denying that the thoughts running through his head at the moment were anything but friendly comfort, though he wasn't sure exactly what he would or could call them. They frightened him, his want frightened him, the yearning to reach out and pull Sirius closer to him, body to body, but more than that—skin to skin. He shuddered, and it was not from the cold.

After some time, minutes maybe, or hours, Sirius spoke.

"Thank you, Moony—Remus. For staying with me."

Remus smiled softly in the dark. He lay on his side, facing away from Sirius, but now he turned over and faced the silhouette of the other man. "You're welcome."

"I'm sorry if Tonks is mad about it."

Remus frowned slightly. He could see Sirius's own form turning, and fancied he could see the outline of his friend's features in the darkness. "Why would Tonks be mad?"

"I just—I thought there might be something going on there, you know. Didn't really think she was quite your type but she does seem to be a bit of a spitfire. Could be entertaining, I suppose." Sirius's voice was carefully indifferent, and it had taken on some of his usual humor.

"There's nothing between Tonks and me." Remus said firmly, and it was the truth. Except for that kiss earlier this evening. But nothing would have happened after that. Because he didn't want it. He didn't want anything else from her. Kissing her, while it had been pleasant, hadn't been right. She'd been missing that scent. His wolf knew, his wolf knew it wanted the sandalwood and soap. If only he could be so certain of what he wanted.

"Really? Because I sensed some distinctly something-like waves in the room. Not to mention an unbridled hostility toward me that I don't think she felt before."

"She wasn't hostile," Remus protested, but now that he thought about it, there had been a sort of challenge in her eyes while speaking to Sirius.

Sirius laughed shortly and the werewolf wasn't sure, but he thought he detected a note of bitterness to it. "Of course she wasn't." There was a pause. "So is there? Anything? Or was there?"

Remus sighed. "She did, well, she rather—she kissed me tonight, only a little while before you showed up." It was strange, how difficult it was to say those words. It was true, it was simple, he didn't plan on doing anything about Tonks's attraction to him... then why did he feel so guilty?

"Did she?" Again that indifference in his voice; it could almost be called cold.

"Yes, but—I'm not sure, Padfoot. It felt, odd. Pleasant but not—" Remus struggled for the words, "but not right."

Another silence stretched out before them, and Remus didn't want to be the first to interrupt it. "Well," Sirius said after a minute. "So much for you getting some, then."

Remus let out a surprised laugh. "Go to hell, mate."

"That could be interesting, seeing as I never actually made it there last time. How about you come with me?"

"Using your previous state of death to taunt me, are you?" Remus teased, glad that they were no longer talking about Tonks. "Well, fuck you."

"Language, Remus, I thought you were the good little bookworm, with the exception of the occasional fabulous prank. And, did you mean that figuratively or literally?"

They laughed, but Remus didn't answer. Instead he let the laughter fade into a comfortable silence. His eyes closed, and he found that for the first time in a long time the fog of sleep settled quickly over his mind.

But before he went to sleep: "Sirius?"

"Mmm?" That soft sound of a question, so much like a moan in the dark, caused another shiver to slither up Remus's spine.

"I just wanted to say that having you back... it's like coming home." Sleep was coming so sweetly, and he kept talking as it enfolded him in its loving embrace. "It's like something I was missing, a part of me, came back, from the dead... literally... and it's you... I never realized it was you before... but I guess it makes sense... I've always... been..."

Remus sighed as sleep overtook him, letting out only one more word: "Yours."

**A/N: Next chapter there will be Harry, and more developments with Tonks possibly and of course some interesting awakenings for our boys. I'm not exactly sure how long this will be. But seriously, children, a review or several would be fantastic.**


	5. Blinding and Baffling

**Chapter 4: Blinding and Baffling**

**A/N: I love reviews times a kajillion. And Harry is actually in this chapter.**

Harry Potter awoke at four o'clock in the morning in a state of some confusion. He could have sworn he'd heard a tapping at his window, the clink of rocks against it, or the beak of an owl on the glass. Of course, he'd been having many such hallucinations since the end of his sixth year, imagining an owl bringing him a letter telling him that Dumbledore wasn't really dead, that it was simply a ploy to throw off Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

Each time he woke up from one of these imaginings, he was reminded again of what he'd lost, who he'd lost, and his failure to do anything to stop it.

But now the tapping came again, louder this time, and Harry sat up quickly. It had been awhile since he'd heard from any of his friends; they had all ben busy and they were also being more cautious than ever. With the knowledge of the Horcruxes and the revelation of the prophecy from fifth year, Harry could not afford to be found.

Now, he flung the thin covers off his body and staggered to the window, fumbling to open the latch with muscles that were still immersed in sleep.

Once inside, the barn owl calmly held out its leg as it perched on Harry's forearm, and he carefully extricated the letter from the owl's clutch. He frowned—the writing was neither Ron's nor Hermione's, and he wondered who else would risk writing him now.

He ripped open the envelope, shredding the paper in his haste. A sheet of parchment partially covered with small, impressively tidy handwriting rested in his hand, and he read it quickly.

_Harry, _it read.

_It's Moony, writing to relay to you some news. I would rather not tell you this in a letter, as it is a matter both delicate and surprising._

Harry rolled his eyes at Remus's ever-eloquent phrasing, and raised his brow. Surprising? After everything that had happened, he doubted if he could even be surprised anymore.

_This news pertains to your godfather. He is alive, and here at the Phoenix. I know you won't take my word for it, so please come as soon as possible._

_Remus_

Harry took in a deep, shuddering breath, not realizing that he had been holding it in for the last several moments. Only one thought registered in his mind as his body quickly went about the task of preparing to leave:

_Oh, Merlin._

---------------

The first thing Sirius was aware of when he woke up the next morning was the warmth. He was wrapped in it, drenched in it, and with a soft sigh he wriggled closer to it. He had slept well and deeply, though he could not rid his subconscious of the crawling and the bumping and the noise of death.

Suddenly he felt a shifting of the heat, and a soft breath blew across his face as something let out a quiet moan. Sirius's eyes flew open as he realized just what the source of his heat really was. He was pressed tightly, intimately, against Remus, the front of his body against the werewolf's side. One of his legs was twined with the other man's and his arm was thrown haphazardly across his chest. His head was nestled in the bend of the man's neck, between the column of the neck and slope of the shoulder. Remus's breath blew softly over his face, and one of the werewolf's arms was curled around Sirius's shoulders protectively.

Sirius had wondered about this same strange feeling of heat yesterday, when he had embraced Remus and wrapped his arm around his waist. He had wondered why he had even felt that heat across the room, when he sat on Remus's bed. He'd had to suppress the sudden image he'd had of Remus lying on that bed, stretched out naked, his back arched and every muscle taut with anticipation. Sirius felt his heart speed up as he remembered that image, and his body stirred at the thought.

His arousal now joined the rest of him that pressed against Remus, and he bit his lip as the werewolf shifted again in sleep. He couldn't have Remus wake up with him like this. Quickly, he thought of every single thing he could think of that would absolutely be sure of disgusting him.

Snivellus, Snivellus naked, McGonagall naked, McGonagall shagging Snivellus, potions, cauldrons, potions books, how Remus always used to look reading his potions book with his lower lip caught between his teeth and his hair falling into his eyes... No! Hippogriffs, Kneazles, shagging Kneazles, boggarts, Remus's talent at repelling boggarts, Professor Slughorn, Professor Dumbledore naked (or was that disrespectful since he was dead now?), how Remus had always sucked up to Professor Dumbledore, how Remus had been a favorite of almost every teacher, how he would blush when he got perfect test scores and the teachers praised him for his talent, how Sirius had always vaguely wondered how far that blush extended... He groaned. He'd been doing so well.

He had mostly managed to quell his desire, but not his confusion. When had this started? This fascination, this desire, this yearning for one of his best friends? Had it been last night when he'd returned? Had coming back from the dead brought about this revelation? Somehow he didn't think so. Somehow he knew that it had started long before that, before they even really knew what it was perhaps.

And what is it? he thought.

---------------

Remus didn't dream, or at least he didn't usually. He rarely slept deeply enough to be truly dreaming, and when he did, they were almost always nightmares.

But this morning, in the cloudy state of sleep just before waking, he dreamt of the lake next to Hogwarts.

_He lay on the grass a few yards from shore, under a tree that partially shaded him from the hot afternoon sun._

_"Moony!" He faintly heard somebody calling his name, but he didn't move. The shade felt too wonderful, caressing his bare skin. He opened his eyes as he felt the breeze kiss his bare chest. His scars gleamed a silver-white in the patches of sun that fought their way through the trees, his trousers rode low on his hips. Normally it would bother him to be thus exposed, his injuries revealed to the world, but his dream self couldn't manage to care._

_"Moony!" The cry came again, and again he ignored it. "Moony! Are you deaf?! Remus!" With a sigh he sat up, pieces of grass clinging to his back as he rose. There was nobody as far as he could see. "Over here!" the voice called again, and his eyes followed the sound._

_Sirius stood waist-deep in the water, mouth quirked into a boyish grin. His body above the water was bare and wet, his skin glistened and gleamed with water droplets as they snaked and ran their way down his stomach and chest, catching on his hips and sliding into the water, where it became too dark to see anything more of him. This was a different Sirius than the one that had come back last night, this one was younger, happier, boyish in face and form, and obviously wasn't dead._

_Sirius laughed. "Come in, Moony! The water's fine!"_

_Remus stood slowly. "I can't swim," he protested, and frowned. That wasn't true. He could swim. Better than Sirius could, at any rate. Actually, he was the best swimmer out of the four of them. Or the two of them, now._

_"Then I'll teach you. Come on."_

_Remus shed his trousers as if in a trance, his underwear following them to the ground. Sirius simply smiled as he came, naked, toward the lake._

_He stopped at the water's edge, the tide just barely licking his toes. "I can't swim," he repeated._

_"Then just come in as far as I am."_

_Remus looked up at his friend. "I'm scared. I don't think I can."_

_Sirius's smile hardened slightly, though the expression in his eyes was almost sad. "I know." he said softly. "You're always scared. Of doing anything new, anything dangerous. Anything that takes away your control. Once a month is enough to lose control over yourself, right?_ _Well then go. Leave. Don't trust me." _

_Sirius turned swiftly, as if to go further into the water, and Remus found himself stepping into the lake._

_"Sirius, no! Wait!"_

_His friend slowly turned around, looking surprised but pleased to see Remus knee-deep in the water._

_"Do you remember last night? When you told me you were mine as you were falling asleep?" Sirius asked gently. He did remember, dimly, as though it were a distant memory. He nodded. "Come here," Sirius commanded._

_When he moved closer, Remus was unsure whether it was his own will or the other man's that urged him forward. But he did come closer, until their bodies were separated by the barest of inches._

_"Why are we here?" Remus asked in a whisper._

_"To fix you." Sirius replied softly, and stepped nearer._

_"I don't need fixing. You're the one who was dead."_

_"At least I had an excuse."_

_Remus frowned. "For what?"_

_"For not living."_

_"I am living."_

_Sirius shook his head and lifted his arms to Remus's chest, running his hands up the narrow frame. "You're not." He was suddenly much closer than he had been, and Remus felt soft flesh under his hands as they came of their own accord to grip Sirius's hips. "Do you know what you need?" Their bodies were pressed together, so tightly that Remus thought they might just fuse together._

_"What?" he managed, the feeling of Sirius's wet, naked body crushed against his own doing little to make him eloquent._

_Lips so close, only a breath away. Everything he wanted, so close._

_"Let go."_

Remus knew the instant he awoke that it had been a dream, unquestionably—for one thing he would never have just gone naked into the lake, or gone naked anywhere, now that he thought about it—but the fact that he knew it was a dream didn't do anything to calm the rapid fluttering of his heart or the pounding of his blood in his veins.

He wasn't entirely sure why he had woken, though it could have something to do with that tugging on his arm. His eyes snapped open and golden hazel encountered dark blue. Sirius was leaning over him, lips slightly parted as though he had been speaking.

"Remus?" he said softly. "You need to let go. You were having a dream, but you need to let go."

Remus glanced down, seeing that his fingers were gripping white-knuckled onto Sirius's waist. He let go suddenly, as though burned and sat up, nearly colliding with Sirius. He remained still, his face too close to his friend's, whose hands now gripped his hips to keep him from being knocked over. Merlin, they were so close, just as they had been in the lake, in the dream, separated by only centimeters of air.

Absently, Remus licked his lips; Sirius's eyes flicked down to his mouth and back up. Before he could question it, before he could wonder why or hesitate, Remus lifted his hand and entangled it in Sirius's dark hair, pulling him closer. The other man's eyes fluttered shut, lips made almost the barest contact—

And the door burst open.

"Remus!" Harry cried as he ran into the room. "Where is he? I can't—" He froze, finally taking in the scene before him: the two men in their thin pajamas sitting practically atop each other in the bed, their faces close and their hands holding and gripping in a way Harry was quite sure wasn't strictly friendly.

Remus had pulled away from Sirius as quickly as he could when the door had burst open, though his mind now raced with the possibilities of their almost-kiss. Now he shifted uncomfortably and eased himself out of the bed to sit on its edge. Unfortunately, he did notice that Sirius' fingers on his hips and the sheer wonderful nearness of the man had caused him a bit of a... problem.

"Harry," he began softly. "Sirius is—"

"Here." Harry whispered. "Here and alive." He stepped closer briefly, his eyes never leaving his godfather. Suddenly he stopped. "How did this happen? What happened, exactly? Sirius—is he—are you—?"

Sirius moved gracefully off the bed to stand at the end of it, closer to Harry. "I don't know how this happened. As to what, I... came back through the veil. And the rest I can't really answer unless you form a complete sentence."

Harry staggered forward into his godfather's arms, gripping tightly to the older man's frame so hard Remus felt an empathetic pain in his own ribs. He turned away to offer the two some privacy in what was nearly the reunion of father and son. He did not want to intrude.

One of his hands came up briefly to brush across his lips, fingers touching the spot that Sirius had just barely touched, so softly it could have been his imagination.

With a quick smile to the two, he said, "I'll be downstairs, if you need me." And with that, he left.

**A/N: All right, children. It's time to review. Next chapter— a new character comes into play, and Tonks confronts Sirius!**


	6. Illumination

**Chapter 5: Illumination**

**A/N: I'm really really sorry for how long this took to get up. But I was working on other things and graduating high school and having life drama. So enjoy!**

Sirius saw nothing of Remus for nearly three days after Harry arrived. He spent all the time with his godson, catching up for the first thirteen years of the young man's life, as well as the last year when Sirius was—indisposed. Harry had indeed grown into quite the young man, still rather small, though his shoulders had broadened and his body had hardened with quidditch and the trials of being the Boy-Who-Could-Not-Get-A-Break. They talked about Harry's all too brief relationship with Ginny, and Sirius wondered about the frown on his godson's face when they spoke of the possibility of that particular reunion after the war was over, they talked about Dumbledore's death and their mutual hatred of one Severus Snape, and they talked about everything else that happened in the last year.

Sirius was overjoyed to see Harry again. But there were moments when he couldn't help but think of Remus, and that expression that he had seen in his eyes just before they— _Just before we what? _he asked himself.

Sirius was not stupid, contrary to many a Slytherin's and snarky teacher's belief, but he wasn't going to jump to conclusions. Not about this. He wasn't scientific and theoretical the way Remus was. He didn't analyze something that didn't happen.

So far he only had the solid facts—he had awoken wanting his friend desperately, he had been half on top of Remus when trying to get him to wake up, and he had wanted nothing more than to taste the werewolf, to see if he tasted like Sirius always thought he would—of self-loathing and anise. He wasn't sure where the anise came from, but in some of his idle thoughts he supposed that the other man would taste of licorice, ever-so-slightly strong and sweet but completely addicting.

And just to clarify, Sirius wasn't the one doing the avoiding. Or at least he was not the only one doing the avoiding. Remus didn't come down to the kitchen at normal times for meals, not early for breakfast (he had always awoken disgustingly early), nor at noon for lunch, and more than once Sirius had spotted him sneaking up the stairs with a plate of food at dinner.

Worse than all of this, Remus no longer slept in his own room. Sirius had come up the first night, to see if he could talk to his friend, not necessarily about what had almost happened, but just to talk. But when he had opened the door there had been nobody there, just the rumpled sheets that they had caused the night before. Sirius had been sleeping there ever since.

On the third night he climbed the stairs wearily, wanting nothing more than to curl up under Remus's covers and to breathe in his smell that was still on the sheets. Harry had asked him about death, what it was like, why he thought he had come back, many of the answers to which he just didn't know.

He pushed open the door to the room slowly—it was so heavy tonight—shrugging out of his shirt as he went and dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. He sank down on the bed, his head between his hands, when suddenly there was a noise and a figure walked through the adjoining door.

"Remus!" he exclaimed, standing quickly.

His friend paused, as if torn between leaving and finishing his business, and gave a half-hearted smile. "Good evening, Sirius."

Sirius watched as his friend walked to the dresser and pulled out several sets of clothes, the werewolf's brow furrowed slightly as he rummaged through the drawers.

"I haven't seen you in awhile," Sirius said abruptly, though he knew his tone was slightly accusing.

"I've been busy." Remus was still rummaging through the drawers, though now his friend suspected it was simply for something to do with his hands.

"With what?"

With a sigh, Remus turned around. "Harry told you about Dumbledore's death, right? And that his weakness was due to drinking a poison to get to the Horcrux?"

"Yes, but the Horcrux was already destroyed."

Remus nodded. "The Horcrux was destroyed by your brother, Regulus. Right now, I'm trying to discover if any of the others have been similarly destroyed, so that Harry isn't sent on any more goose chases. So that we don't lose anybody else."

There was silence for a moment, thick with things unsaid.

"You still could have come down during meals and talked to us. Harry misses you, you know. He hasn't seen you in months. And I—" Sirius paused, unsure of what he wanted to say. "I haven't seen you in more than a year. And before that twelve years. And then after less than a day in your company, you disappear. For work, I grant you, but you bloody disappear, and it's not fucking fair." He was walking steadily closer to Remus, though his voice was still mostly calm, save the slightest tremor. "You can't just leave."

---------------

He was too close again. Remus could feel the heat through his clothes, and marveled at the ability of one person to create such intense warmth.

"I haven't left," he said stupidly.

Sirius smiled softly. "It feels like you have. Nothing's changed, Moony."

"How can you say that?" Remus demanded. "Everything's changed. Everything's wrong. You died. You came back after twelve years in fucking Azkaban and I still didn't have you. And then you died. You are the one who fucking left me! You left me alone, with only myself. I can't do that again, Sirius. I can't lose you for some other stupid reason." His voice quieted once more. "We're broken. And I don't want to be fixed only to be broken again."

Sirius's expression was carefully guarded, and rather confused. "How would you lose me? You haven't lost me. Fuck, I just got back yesterday and you're already worrying? I'm not going to die again. For one thing it's fucking uncomfortable." He smiled his crooked smile, and Remus commended him for the effort in trying to lighten the mood.

"I don't mean death. I mean I don't want to lose you because of something I do. Because of something stupid or because I lose control, like—" Remus closed his mouth abruptly. He wasn't going to say it. He wasn't going to admit that his control three days ago had hung by a thread, and had Harry not come in when he did... he didn't even know what would have happened.

"Like the other morning." Sirius finished for him. His dark blue eyes lifted to meet Remus's and held him there with his gaze. He took one step forward. "Were you going to kiss me, Remus?" he said softly.

The werewolf couldn't breathe, couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. He hadn't heard Sirius speak like that before, not to anyone, and definitely not to him. In that gentle, questioning, almost pleading tone. "Yes," he breathed.

Sirius nodded. "I thought so. But I wasn't sure. Did you know that I wanted to kiss you?"

Remus didn't trust himself to speak this time, and shook his head.

Sirius stepped closer once again, until his body pressed fully against the werewolf's. They fit snugly, hips at slightly different levels because of their height difference, Sirius's head just fitting into the bend of Remus's neck.

Remus could feel his friend's heartbeat now through his clothes, or perhaps that was his own heart thundering through his ribcage. Sirius was taking charge now, his hand twining itself in the blond's hair and pulling him forward gently, surely, closer.

Thought. Coherent thought. It had been so easy before this, before Sirius was so close and before his scent was filling up Remus's senses and before—oh, Merlin.

The moment Sirius's lips touched his, he ceased thinking as Remus, he ceased thinking at all, only registering the feeling. Panes of a muscled chest crushed against his own, thighs, hips, pressed so close. The rush of sensation to his groin as Sirius rotated his hips gently. That sandalwood scent that his wolf had so longed to smell, mixed with soap, filling his nostrils and his head and sending arousal shuddering through him. The hands buried in his hair, pulling on the blond strands demandingly.

And the lips.

They were so soft on his at first, as though they were still unsure if they were wanted. Then the kiss deepened, the lips angled across his own and parted, a tongue teased his mouth open and delved inside, meeting his own, asking for neither dominance nor submission, merely acceptance.

Remus growled low in his throat, the wolf in him reveling in the sensation, and demanding that he take what was his. His fingers dug into Sirius's hips, dragging him even closer. He tore his lips away and bent his head, his mouth and teeth and tongue breaking contact for the barest of seconds before devouring the smaller man's neck. It was too much, this sensation, the slight gasps that Sirius made as Remus nipped and licked and sucked on the delicate flesh of his neck. It was too much, the feelings that exploded in his every nerve ending merely at this kiss.

And yet it wasn't nearly enough.

"Remus... oh... fuck..." His friend softly moaning his name brought him back to reality and he froze, his lips pausing in their assault of the flesh below Sirius's left ear. He pulled back quickly though he did not let go his grip on the other man's body.

He looked so beautiful, his eyes still closed, his lips parted and his brow furrowed in an expression that neared pain, and yet was far removed from pain. Remus's own chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing still unsteady as he watched his friend.

---------------

When Remus's lips didn't return, Sirius didn't think it was because he was catching his breath. His eyes snapped open, finding the werewolf staring at him with an expression of wonder and fear on his face. Sirius almost blushed, thinking of moaning his best friend's name only moments before and arching into his touch. Thinking of the part of him that was still hard, and the fact that he had wanted Remus to let go, to let the wolf out and push him against the wall and take him, that sent the heat flooding his cheeks and ears.

"Remus," he said softly, and his voice was still low and husky. He moved slightly forward, so that he was once again flush against the other man, and brought a hand to the slight stubble on his face. "Remus, I think that I've—"

Suddenly he was pushed away, gently but firmly, by Remus's large hands. The blond was shaking his head, over and over, his breathing still erratic and deep. "I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can—I'm sorry."

As Remus left him for the second time in three days, Sirius felt a single hot tear escape his eye and slide down his cheek. He shook his head and harshly brushed away the tear. No, Remus did not just get to fucking walk away this time. He didn't know how long he had waited for that moment, for touching the blond and kissing him and holding him, but he was not going to sit by while Remus decided to be a coward again. Not when he had been waiting so long.

And how long had he been waiting?

**A/N: So I'm sorry again that it took so long to get up, but have no fear, there is more. Also, I'm starting a few new fics that are spinoffs of this one, with Harry/Draco, and also Hermione/Snape. They will be in the same story line and all interconnected, but none of them will be necessary to the other. Anyway, REVIEW!!!**

**Oh, and next up, a little insight into their past...**


	7. Starlight

**Chapter 6: Starlight**

**A/N: Here is some insight into their past, and the parts of their past that have led up to this moment. The parts that are in the past will be dated, as well as the present, so you don't get confused. And thank you to my lovely reviewers! My other fic about Harry and Draco will be up soon, for those of you who are interested it's called From Beyond the Hate. Enjoy!**

_Far away_

_This ship is taking me far away_

_Far away from the memories_

_Of the people who care if I live or die_

December 31, 1976

"How weird is it that we're not even really looking at stars? We're looking at dead stars, stars that have been dead for thousands of years. Doesn't that seem strange?" Remus's voice was soft and cool in the dark of the Astronomy Tower, and soothing to his companion's ears, that had been bombarded the whole evening by incredibly drunk witches and wizards hitting on him or trying to start a fight with him.

"Padfoot?" His eyes opened slowly as he realized he was being spoken to, and he blinked confusedly. "Padfoot, do you have any idea what I was just talking about?" The tone was stern, but there was humor in the amber eyes, and Sirius grinned unabashedly, shaking his head.

Remus sighed, but smiled anyway. "I didn't think so. What were you thinking about?"

Sirius rolled his head to the side so that it was facing his friend with some effort, it was so fuzzy right now. "Stars," he mumbled. "And swimming in stars. And how they're dead. So it's like swimming in dead things." He frowned, the functioning part of his brain realizing that he wasn't making a whole lot of sense.

Remus suddenly looked solemn. "Sirius, are you drunk?" Uh oh. Remus rarely used his real name unless he was really being serious.

"Just a little." He giggled, showing Remus with his thumb and forefinger the exact amount he meant.

"Why? I thought you weren't going to drink as much anymore?"

Sirius didn't like it when his friend sounded so solemn, and so worried. "It's New Year's. Special occasion. Why aren't you drunk?"

Remus frowned. "I don't like getting drunk."

Sirius snorted. "No. You like getting drunk. I remember last time. That Ravenclaw girl was all over you because you were just you and not so smart like most the time."

"But I am smart."

"Not when you're drunk. You're a control freak, Moony." Sirius grinned and sat up suddenly, the wind ruffling his hair slightly. "Got a present for you, then." He reached over, stretching his arm over to the bag by his feet, and pulled out a large, full bottle.

Remus shook his head. "Padfoot, no. I'm not going to get drunk up here in the Astronomy Tower with you. I'm not going to get drunk at all."

"Come on, Moony. Let go, just you know... have fun." He held out the bottle to the blond, who eyed it skeptically for several moments before taking it. Sirius smiled again. He could almost always get Remus to do what he wanted. The other boy took a long drink, keeping his eyes open as his brow furrowed in distaste.

Sometime later, the bottle was empty, and both boys were to a truly impressive point of inebriation. They were standing on one side of the tower together, looking out over the Hogwarts grounds and holding onto the stone for support.

"Look!" cried Sirius. "'S th' forest. Forbidden."

Remus giggled, an unusual sound for him. "Never stopped us before."

"'S'cause we like forbidden things. Cause they're..." he was having a hard time thinking of the word all of a sudden.

"Forbidden?" offered Remus, leaning on the stone as his head spun.

"Yes! That's it."

Remus closed his eyes as the world spun again, this time more violently. "Need sit down," he mumbled.

"I'll help you, Moony." Sirius's form of help turned out to be rather useless, as he tried to pick Remus up and set him down on the ground, which merely resulted in them toppling over, Remus landing gracelessly on top of the other boy.

They stared for a few moments, Sirius wondering exactly how long Remus's eyes had been that vibrant a gold. And that deep, and that perfect. He felt his pants tighten painfully as his friend shifted on top of him, and gasped. There was nothing resembling logic going through his mind right now, nothing about how they were friends and it was wrong that he was so fucking turned on, and nothing about how it was wrong because they were both blokes and drunker than fuck.

There was only the bulge he could feel in Remus's pants, the one that was rubbing against his own.

"Moony," he said softly, and he wasn't sure whether it was a question or a demand at this point.

But the other boy dropped his head, and suddenly there was a tongue sliding a path up the side of his neck, and then teeth nipping just over his pulse. Remus's hand slid down his chest, down his torso where the muscles twitched at the sensation, and rather unsteadily undid the button on his trousers.

Sirius's eyes widened as a large, warm hand closed around his shaft and let out a loud moan. The lips were still attached to his neck, moving over his adam's apple and sucking, and then lingering over his collar bone and biting down, leaving trails of fire and sensation in their wake.

Remus began to stroke him firmly with that large, scarred hand, and Sirius's hips bucked of their own accord into the sensation. He opened his eyes, which he had shut tightly after a few moments of the overwhelming feeling, and saw Remus looking down at him, lust and something else shining in his eyes.

Sirius licked his lips and slid both his hands up the werewolf's chest, then down again, to the edge of his shirt. He slid the material up for a moment, trailing his fingers along the skin, memorizing the feel of the scars and the muscle and the heat. Then his hands continued downward, past the button which he deftly worked past, and under the waistband of the other boy's boxers.

They stroked in unison, occasionally leaning in to suck on the other's neck and shoulder, or to nip at the jaw and ear. They gasped and moaned as their hands picked up speed, and the sounds were lost on the night breeze.

"Shit, Remus, I'm..." Sirius panted desperately, arching into the touch.

"Yes. Please, Sirius... with me..."

Sirius nodded in understanding, and with only a few more frantic strokes they were coming, spilling onto their hands and trousers. Sirius leaned up and placed a single chaste kiss on his friend's lips, and they fell asleep tangled together under the stars.

The next morning when they awoke, neither knew why Remus was on top of his friend, nor could they remember why the front of their trousers were stiff and stained. But they would both have strange dreams for years to come, of dark, intense eyes and stroking hands, and the smell of Firewhiskey on hot breath.

July, 1997

Sirius woke up slowly, from a dream he'd had since his sixth year. It was routine, now, to wake from that strange fantasy, with deep amber eyes looking deeply into his own, and hot lips and teeth digging a sweet pain into his neck. And the heady feel of his release spreading through his body. He never knew why it happened, though he had his suspicions about the New Year that year.

Things had been... awkward to say the least since his passionate encounter with Remus only a week ago. They had ceased avoiding each other, that much was a relief, but now instead their conversations were short and tense, full of words and phrases that had suddenly acquired double-meanings, and meant far more than they ever should.

Worse than that, Sirius wanted more, so much more than he had been given those few minutes in his friend's arms. He had wanted so badly to be taken over by Remus, to let the man possess him wholly, to remind him that he was alive and living, to take control of him the way nobody ever had. He had never let himself go like that, but how he wanted to, how he wished... how he wanted... yearned...

Twelve years. Twelve fucking years gone. Twelve years taken away from him and Remus. And now that he had realized what he needed... what would it take to get it?

_Starlight_

_I will be chasing the starlight_

_Until the end of my life_

_I don't know if it's worth it anymore_

November, 1981

Remus breathed in deeply, past the pain. The pain was a constant now, so near to his heart that he had almost grown used to it. Almost. Except for a few moments like this, when he came across something that reminded him. Reminded him of all he had lost. It was only a picture, of him and Sirius at Lily and James's wedding. He'd thought that he had put all of them away, to keep the memories at bay—now even the happy ones hurt.

They were all gone.

But at least three of them had an excuse. They were betrayed, by the one person they had all thought they could trust. Sure, he had been a little reckless, a little unreliable, but when it came down to it, he was always there when he was needed.

It was all a lie.

Everything Remus had ever felt or ever thought he felt or never knew he felt, everything regarding Sirius had been built upon lies. Lies that had taken his best friends away. Lies that had left him alone.

It was times like this that he would remember everything he had ever loved about Sirius. Loved as a friend, of course. They had never become anything more than friends, though in some of his more wandering thoughts he had wondered what it would feel like to kiss his best friend.

It was times like this that he would close his eyes and remember Sirius laughing with him, or at him, the way his whole body laughed, when his eyes crinkled and his mouth was split in a wide grin, and his shoulders shook with mirth. He would remember Padfoot with him on the long nights when he would change and ache and hurt himself, he would remember that large black dog with him all the time, keeping him sane.

But Merlin, it hurt to remember. It hurt to remember when everything had gone so wrong, when he had betrayed them all. And he couldn't help asking himself that question, that single thought that plagued his dreams and haunted his every waking moment—

Why?

_My life_

_You electrify my life_

_Let's conspire to re-ignite_

_All the souls that would die just to feel alive_

July, 1993

When Sirius had first escaped, it had been out of desperation. Because he knew, without question or doubt, that he would die if he remained in that place. He knew that sooner or later, the Dementors would no longer have to suck the soul from him to kill him. They would do it simply by taking his every hope and dream away from him.

And he couldn't let that happen. Not when he had his innocence to prove.

After the desperation had abated, and the panic had passed, he had time to think. Which was really what he was doing when he watched Harry Potter climb onto the Knight Bus in the middle of the night. He was thinking, and wondering what he could come back to. And then he saw Harry, that young, scared boy, with such a horrifying and wonderful combination of his parents' features, climb onto a bus because he felt that he had nowhere else to go. And he knew that he had something to come back to.

Though there was admittedly somebody else on his mind as well. Remus. The one man he had to come to. The only one of his friends that he could come back to, that he still considered a friend. Peter did not even qualify as human anymore, not when he had—

The werewolf had been on Sirius's mind for nearly every moment the past twelve years. It was one of the few things the Dementors hadn't managed to take away from him, that thought, that hope, that he still had one friend who was living and breathing and hoping and not running for his life. The memories of James and Lily had been happy until he had remembered that they died in no more than a few flashes of green light, and his memories of Peter were so filled with rage that even the guards didn't wish to go near him.

There was so much he had to make up for, now. He wanted his life back. He curled up in one of the bushes, determined to find Harry later, and thanking Merlin silently that his fur was thick enough for the chill of the night.

He would get his life back. He would get Remus back.

_But I'll never let you go_

_If you promise not to fade away_

_Never fade away_

July, 1997

Remus sighed and let his head sink slowly into his hands. He was avoiding sleep, he knew, but he wouldn't allow himself to stop. He had to do something, to distract himself from the dreams and the memory of that sensation.

The book in front of him was full of mystical fabrics, magical incantations, anything to find out why Sirius had come back through the veil. He had needed something with which to distract himself, to keep himself from thinking about his kiss—though perhaps kiss was an understatement—with Sirius, and he had found it.

True, he still thought about it more than he should, as in every fucking moment, but now he had something else to puzzle out, something from which conclusions could actually be drawn, something that was real and tangible and didn't depend on him deciding something or have anything to do with the idea of plunging himself inside Sirius and fucking the living daylights out of him.

Remus bit his lip. That was not what he was here to think about. Though he was making little progress with the reason for Sirius's miraculous return from the grave.

Why had he run away like that? Why had he said that he couldn't do this? Why the fuck had he stopped touching Sirius, when all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was hold him and touch him and taste him and feel him.

And perhaps love him.

Why had he left? And why did he stay away, when he wanted it so badly? Why was he trapped in this wanting and needing and fear?

Remus sat up straight suddenly, connections and revelations flashing across his face and mind.

That was it. He hadn't been dead, he had been trapped.

The Veil wasn't death. It was a prison.

---------------

_Our hopes and expectations_

_Black holes and revelations_

_Our hopes and expectations_

_Black holes and revelations_

Neither Sirius nor Remus slept that night.

_Hold you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold_

_You in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold_

**A/N: Ah, the end of another chapter. The lyrics were _Starlight,_ by Muse. I love that song. And if you love me (or hate me), please review. Next chapter, a little more Harry, some more Tonks, also some revelations about why Sirius was really brought back and what conditions were involved... Review!!!**


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